We stand at the doorway to greatness, Internet. For 498 Blog entries, we’ve had some good times, but it was all just funnin’. Now it gets real. My next entry will be my 500th, and that’s when it’s going to happen. That’s when I’ll get famous.

(THAT famous.)

Unfortunately, the inevitable Biography and movie about me will be incredibly dull, because unlike most famous people, I don’t have any major crutches or issues that have driven me to be famous. Sure, my life has been a constant pursuit of fortune and glory, but I haven’t yet reached the levels I always imagined. It’s probably because I lack the driving force that makes people like Madonna, Sinatra, Bowie and countless others reinvent themselves to stay relevant. Some schmuck with a couple of essays on the internet and a yearn for the spotlight is all I’ve ever been. After my next entry though, I’m gonna be HUGE. A guy with 500 essays on the internet? That’s some Burt Reynolds level fame, Internet, and I’ll have done it without the cool dramatic tale that so often excites the public about famous people. So before I step onto the World Stage and claim my title of “Awesome,” let’s take a look at some of the reasons why I haven’t been famous yet up to this point, or some of the cool story arcs that won’t be in The Tucker Blogs Story:

1. I Am Happily Married.

Nearly all forms of art, expression, and mere energy exertion ever made have been made with one goal: getting laid. The drive to impress the opposite sex is what made man first kill a Woolly Mammoth, invade Troy, and shave. I’m happily married to a hot redhead. I rarely feel the push to impress the opposite sex on a general basis anymore. It’s actually quite liberating: We had dated for 5 years, but once we were actually married, a feeling came over me that was deliciously comforting. All of that nervousness you feel in a bar, all of that bullshit about how long you wait to call them, or protecting your feelings, or mustering the courage to approach somebody: all of that was over. Half of the thoughts that dominate a single person’s brain were gone. I no longer needed to worry about being alone, or finding a girlfriend, or even finding someone to make out with on New Years or St. Patrick’s Day. I have my partner. There wasn’t even a wacky scenario that brought us together, like she was the bride and I was the wedding planner or we were trapped on a mysterious magical island together. So the movie about my life would lack that, and my art suffers from a lack of needing to win love. All you need is Love? Okay, then I’m good. What’s on TV?

2. I’m Not Addicted to Smack or Blow

The Tucker Blogs Story will NOT feature scenes of drugged out debauchery or me stealing to support a habit. Sure, I do some drinking, but certainly not at a Jim Morrison or Mike Blogoff level. I don’t have 30 songs about heroin and morphine like Trent Rezner and Morphine. I don’t push myself to create so I can score more coke. I don’t even desire the stereotypical Hollywood dream: snorting blow off a hooker’s ass while chugging Cristal with Jack Nicholson in a helicopter. The helicopter ride would be fun, but I just picture it being too bumpy and windy to do blow off of anybody’s ass. Couldn’t we just bring some beers? And light beers, too. I’ve been gaining a little weight since I quit smoking. Anyway, I’m not a pill popper or a needle jockey, so not only do I not have that little creative edge but there would be no downfall and redemption in my story.

3. My Parents are Still Together

Not only did my parents NOT die when I was very young, forcing me to grow up on the streets, but they never even divorced. In fact, they seem pretty happy still. That totally screws me when it comes to a fascinating character arc about me fighting to win their approval, or chasing their ghosts, or just flat out running away when the divorce was announced. I don’t even have the “harsh childhood” or abusive upbringing that has driven so many to fame. My parents weren’t stage parents. They didn’t make me practice something endlessly every day like the piano or free throws until my fingers bled. It sucks because overall, I had a pretty awesome childhood. I was a happy and well adjusted kid in a loving household built on honesty, communication, and trust, pinnacles of the relationship that I still enjoy with my parents. Thanks a lot, Mom and Dad. I guess I’ll never be Michael Jackson level famous.

4. No Personality Disorders or Depravity

As far as I know, I am not a murderer. I am also not gay (not that there’s anything wrong with that), I don’t touch kids, I don’t cut myself, and I don’t like to hang myself from a noose during sex. I don’t even care for tattoos. I also do not suffer from delusions or depression. My point is that I have nothing major that I’m trying to hide or overcompensate for. I have no major secret that needs to be protected or a double life that I fight to keep in the shadows. I’m not even handicapped! I’m also not on the other side of that, fighting to raise the awareness or acceptance of a group or movement I belong to. I have the right to vote, own property, marry, visit other countries, visit Arizona, and can more or less have any job I want (except be a fighter pilot. I’m just too tall for that). My normal, non-extreme life as a white kid from Suburban Chicago who lives with only one wife and doesn’t have an alter-ego would make a pretty boring movie. We’d have to add an alien invasion or something just to keep it interesting, and that’s not supposed to happen for another 8 years.  

5. No Famous Mentors or Celebrity Cameos

Jenny Aniston tried for years to make it in Hollywood. She was on that Ferris Bueller TV show, but nothing else seemed to click for her until she was cast on Friends. She became an “overnight sensation,” but a few key ingredients to her success were often overlooked: her father was on Soap Operas, and her Godfather was Telly Savales. Sure, Jenny is talented, but man, those are some pretty good references to have on your resume. Even if she insisted on “going her own way,” it’s impossible that the influence of her relatives didn’t effect the opportunities she was given in some way, even if it was small. I have no cousins in the Industry, wasn’t a student of Charlene Tilton’s, and don’t live next door to Steve Guttenberg. I met Gary Coleman once, but he’s dead. I have no one to call, contact, or reach out to for even the smallest connection. In fact, I’ve lost opportunities to people that have cousins in the business but much less experience than me. Not that I’m bitter. Oh, wait; yes I am.

6. Nobody Knows Who the Hell I Am.

I do not network socially. I use a fake name whenever possible on the internet. (My real name is Oliver Tallgrass. I’m Dutch-Chippewa.) When at work, I don’t think I say enough about my goals. I think I keep my head down at the wrong time and raise it at the worst. I thank the 150 or so of you who visit the site regularly, who ever you may be (hello, Czech Republic!), but it’s not like the word is getting out. I’m just no good at marketing. For that reason, The Tucker Blogs Story would leave most wondering who I was, and then being totally nonplussed by the answer. As soon as this 500th Blog entry goes up the fame will erupt, but will then be immediately destroyed when people see there’s nothing intrinsically interesting about me. Oh, well. It will be a good ride anyway.

So this was 499. The next is 500, the one that will change everything. Maybe I’ll tank it. I don’t think I’m ready. Yeah, screw getting famous. We’ll do that at 600. That gives me 100 entries to find a character flaw or a really good 3rd Act Reveal for my life. Afterall, I’m a pretty happy guy. What desire do I have? Without some major hole in my life that I need to fill, I may never have the drive it takes to rule the world. That’s actually quite liberating. I just need to rule my world. Unless I’m planning to become Alexander the Great or Jesus Christ, whatever splash I make won’t be so big that the water will forever stay rippled. That just sounds exhausting. I bet Madonna cries herself to sleep a lot, thinking that she’s losing her pertinence in a world she craves attention from. Maybe if I’m not dominated so much by where I think I should be, I’ll be able to focus on where I am and just get some work done.

Or I’ll just invent new ways to procrastinate. Maybe I’ll start a Twitter.